


I Wanna Stay Here Forever

by stars28



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean in Denial, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 03:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1453612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars28/pseuds/stars28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean slowly realises that his interests lie less with women and more with the men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wanna Stay Here Forever

**Author's Note:**

> So this idea popped into my head, and I couldn't rest until I wrote it.

Dean was in a nameless bar somewhere in Tulsa with a bottle of beer in front of him and a pretty girl next to him. He was relaxing after a hard hunt. On this one, the demon had somehow managed to escape the trap he'd laid for it, and he couldn't understand how. Human error, he guessed. There was only so much a hunter could do before a mistake was made. Or at least, he hoped it was his fault.

But tonight Dean wasn't a hunter, he was a wealthy film director looking for the next hottest thing. That's what the pretty girl thought he was and he would continue to encourage this until he got her into bed.

"Sure, you're the hottest thing around..." Dean said, sipping his beer and watching through green eyes as the woman fluttered her eyelashes at him, "And we would _love_ to have you on-board in our latest film."

She was enamoured with him, he could tell, but she excused herself so she could reapply her make-up.

"She's really falling for the old 'I'm a director and I'm looking for hot, young woman for a film' tactic?"

Dean turned to his left side, and found a well-built man with dark hair looking at him with sparkling brown eyes. He checked over his shoulder for the woman he was trying to get into his bed. She wasn't in sight.

He leant towards the man slightly and said, "If it gets her into my bed, then I'm not complaining."

The man shrugged, shot a smile at Dean and then turned back to his drink. Dean was left feeling... _odd._ As though there was something in his stomach.

He chose to ignore that as the woman he'd been trying to con had come back, and was gripping him by the wrist, a suggestive smile painted on her face. He finished the last of his beer, and then stood, allowing the woman to pull him away from the noisy bar. He resisted the urge to look back at that man who'd talked to him and focused on the slender fingers rubbing a circle on the inside of his wrist.

* * *

Two weeks later and Dean had forgotten about that encounter. It found Dean driving his Baby towards Casper, Wyoming. He'd caught wind of hunt, men kept disappearing after going to a certain bar, _Move Along_. His gut instinct was that there was something supernatural going on, his bet was on witches, but he couldn't be sure without research.

When he got to the small town outside Casper, Dean booked a room in the motel for a week and went for a look around, after parking the Impala.

He found the bar - _Move Along_ \- easily. It was the first bar he came across, just opposite from his motel. Huh, easy access at least. He had a glance at the front, noticing the sign that proudly claimed that it was a gay bar. That raised Dean's eyebrows.

This was going to be an interesting hunt.

* * *

He was in a corner, his eyes unwillingly being dragged to the men dancing - although _grinding_ was more accurate - in the space in front of him. He'd thought he'd just try to get used to the atmosphere to start with and then try to solve this hunt.

"Wanna dance?"

Dean's green eyes flicked quickly to the man standing above him. He thought about the offer for a moment. Maybe it would give him an idea on how everything worked. Dean stood up and said, with an easy smile, "Sure."

He followed the man onto the floor, and was engulfed by the heat and the noise from the speakers. The man's body pushed against him, hard and unforgiving, unlike a woman's body which would be soft.

Dean mentally freaked out. He wasn't gay. But, he had to admit, the way this guy was grinding against him was awesome.

* * *

Dean was in the motel, watching the men as they entered the bar. He'd finished the hunt (it had been witches, just as he'd suspected) a day ago, and he should have been on the road. But for some reason - curiosity maybe - he'd decided to stay here for an extra night. He debated whether to go back or not. It had been a week since the last time, and, as much as he disliked to admit it, it had been good.

Besides, he said to himself, it wasn't as if he _had_ to dance. He could just have a beer and not dance. He got up and shrugged his leather jacket on, quickly locking the motel door behind him.

Dean crossed the street, looking both ways first. He went through the door, noticing that it was the same set up as the first night he'd been here. Tables scattered around a makeshift dance floor with the speakers free-standing, a couple of sofas near the wall at the back and a bar to the left of where he was standing.

He pushed through the crowd, towards the bar, and ordered a bottle of beer. He nodded his thanks to the bartender and retreated to a secluded corner, intending to just drink and watch for a while.

After a while - and three beers - Dean thought he might brave the dance floor. In a few minutes, he was in the middle of the floor, hands under his shirt. His ass was being grabbed, and if he arched into the touch, no one had to know. He blamed it on the beer.

* * *

Just outside San Antonio, Texas, there was a haunted house, and Dean was stood outside it, squinting in the bright sunshine. It looked like any old house on the street; big, old and crumbling. Except this one had an angry spirit Dean had to salt and burn.

He climbed back into the Impala and drove off, the sun glinting off the windscreen.

Once Dean arrived at the only motel in the tiny town, he parked and went into the reception to get a room.

"Room?" The teenager behind the counter asked.

"Single please," Dean said, passing his fake credit card over.

The lad swiped it and got him to sign on the dotted line. He gave Dean the receipt, along with the key for his room, and Dean went outside to collect his duffel from the boot of the Impala.

Once in his room - it had horrible green walls and a faded carpet - Dean wondered what to do. He could go to the nearest bar, but then again, it had been a tiring day of driving, so maybe he would stay here. But here was unsurprisingly boring.

He sighed, getting up from the bed and walking around the room. He saw something on the back of the receipt he'd got earlier. Dean picked it up and looked at it properly.

It was a number and a name - Aaron. He assumed it was from the lad who'd served him, as he hadn't seen anyone else since arriving in the town.

He'd typed the number into his phone before he'd even realised he'd picked his phone up. And now it was ringing next to his ear.

_"Hello?"_

"Er... Hi?" Dean said, unsure how to approach this, "It's Dean? From room eighteen?"

There was the sound of scuffling, as though Aaron was going somewhere.

_"Hey Dean,"_ Aaron said, and Dean heard a definite purr in his voice, _"What can I do for you?"_

The voice had blood rushing to his cock, and despite himself, he was palming at the quickly growing erection with his other hand through his jeans.

"Anything." He said, a bit breathlessly.

_"Anything huh?"_ Aaron said slowly, _"Would you like me to suck your cock all the way down, until I'm choking on it?"_

"Yes." Dean groaned, his imagination going wild as he freed his hard cock from the confines of his jeans.

_"Or maybe you'd like me to jack you off, hard and fast..."_ Aaron said, the seductiveness palpable in his voice.

"Oh God..."

_"You'd love me to tease you, tongue at your slit and then swallow all your come as it burst from you, wouldn't you?"_

"Uh... G-God, yes! More! God!" Dean moaned as one final twist of his wrist sent him flying over the edge.

_"Bye Dean."_

After a few moments of heavy breathing, he came to his senses and realised what he had done. He'd jerked off to the thought of a guy.

Shit.

* * *

Dean flicked his eyes briefly to Sam, riding shotgun after four years of absence, before focusing on the road ahead. It was as though he expected Sam to have disappeared from the Impala, as though there was somewhere to go in a car hurtling down the freeway. He snorted, amused by his own thoughts.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Nothing, just my thoughts." Dean said, shaking his head a little.

It was about three months after the _incidence_ , as Dean had named it, refusing to think about it any more. It hadn't happened as far as Dean was concerned. He wasn't gay.

"So, where are we going for this hunt?" Dean asked, wanting a conversation to distract his from his memories.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as his brother twisted round in his seat and grabbed the folded map.

Dean listened as Sam explained that their hunt was in Iowa somewhere that Dean didn't bother listening to, and that it looked to be an easy salt and burn.

"Something to ease yourself back in then Sammy?" Dean smirked, glancing sideways and chuckling when he saw that Sam was glaring at him, "What? Can't have a bit of fun teasing my brother?"

"Shut up."

He grinned, it was fun to wind up Sam.

* * *

Dean blanched when he saw what motel they'd pulled up at - it was the one that he went to three months ago. Holy crap.

He glanced at Sam, he had already got out. Shit, there was no way he could drive off now without Sam thinking it was weird. Maybe Aaron wasn't there. God, he hoped so, because he wasn't sure if he could manage to ignore him.

Wait what?

"Dean?" Sam opened his door again and stuck his head back in, "You coming?"

Dean blinked, realising that he'd been sitting staring into the empty parking lot for about five minutes, and said, "What? Oh yeah, coming."

After he'd got his duffel out of the boot, he went in to the motel, following Sam. Sam's height came in useful for once, he could hide behind him.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam asked.

"Uh nothing." Dean replied, reluctantly stepping from behind his brother and staring at the floor, silently hoping that it wasn't Aaron.

He began to wonder _why_ he could remember the name of a random guy he'd hooked up with once, but then couldn't remember the name of any of the women he'd slept with over the past couple of months.

By the time he'd emerged from his thoughts, Sam had got them a room - two queens - and was walking to where Dean assumed the room was.

"So what was that?" Sam asked once they were in their room.

"What was what?"

"The hiding behind me earlier?"

Dean looked up from setting the salt line across the rooms only window, "I wasn't hiding, I just happened to be behind you."

"Liar."

* * *

"Dean?" Sam said.

He jerked his head up from staring at the table top and blinked at Sam, "Yeah?"

"At least three women, who you normally would've hit on, have walked past, and you haven't even looked at them. Why?"

"So what? Maybe I just don't feel like it!" Dean snapped, slamming his money on the bar and stalking outside, ignoring his brother's stare penetrating his back.

Breathing in the cold night air, he thought about the real reason for not hitting on any women in the bar. It was Aaron, he threw Dean off. He suddenly had the urge to call the number stored in his phone. He'd saved it in his phone - just in case he'd told himself, just in case. Although he knew he was lying to himself - he'd saved it in case of a repeat of that night.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and turned the screen on, going to contacts and finding Aaron on the list. Maybe he should call.

No, he shouldn't. It would seem needy and besides, he wasn't gay. He wasn't, despite that incidence three months ago. That was a one time thing. He'd never do it again.

Except Dean was calling the number, listening to the ringing tones, and he hoped - stupidly - that Aaron would pick up the phone.

_"Hello?"_

"Hey Aaron, it's Dean - from room eighteen - and I was wondering..." Dean took a breath before continuing, "If, if you wanted to meet up and...well do some stuff..."

_"Oh! Yeah sure!"_ Aaron answered, _"Are you at the motel?"_

"No, but I can get there in a few." Dean said, annoyed at himself for sounding so eager.

_"Cool. I'll see you in the reception Dean."_

Dean looked at the phone afterwards, wondering what he'd just agreed to. Shrugging his shoulders and sent Sam a brief text saying, _"Going back to motel. See u there."_

As he walked quickly to the motel, Sam texted back, saying _"Ok."_

He arrived at the motel in a matter of minutes and went into the motel, spotting Aaron immediately. He was the only one in the reception as this time of night. For that, Dean was glad.

"Hey Aaron." He said.

Aaron looked up and smiled. It dazzled Dean for a moment.

"Dean! You're here! Good!" Aaron said, grabbing Dean's arm and pulling him along.

"Where are we going?"

"We aren't going far, just to the bar down the road."

"Wait!" Dean said, stopping in the middle of sidewalk, "I've just come from there."

"So?"

"My brother's there and he doesn't... err... exactly know about this... err... side of me..." He said, stuttering.

"Ah. Ok then, in which case..." Aaron dragged Dean down the nearest alley, taking him by surprise, "We can do what I'd been planning to do before down here."

That was the only warning Dean got before Aaron was slamming him against the wall and pressing their lips together forcefully. It wasn't a nice kiss, no, it was biting and bloody. Aaron pulled away.

Dean barely had time to breath before Aaron's lips were smashing back into his. His tongue demanded entrance to Dean's mouth, which he gave willingly. Dean couldn't help the moan that ripped from his throat when Aaron started to lick the inside of his mouth. God, that was awesome.

Dean felt the brick wall behind him being imprinted into his back, but he didn't mind. If anything, he was kind of glad of that, as it would give him something to remember this experience by.

* * *

"Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean said, rubbing his hair with a towel.

"What are those scratches on your back?" Sam said, "And where did they come from?"

Dean silently cursed himself. Why hadn't he remembered them? He'd been doing so well from the past week or so.

"Well..." He painted a grin on his face, "A woman got a little bit _too_ enthusiastic, if you know what I mean." He winked.

"Ok."

* * *

Dean never did tell Sam about his occasional skirmishes with men. So, maybe it was more than occasional, and more like every time he went out to a bar by himself.

He might be gay after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, it'd be nice if you commented. :)


End file.
